


Hollow

by BrandyVorta (GhostySoldier), Oboeist3



Category: Disney Ducks (Comics), Topolino (Comics)
Genre: Collaboration, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mad Ducktor's Abandonment Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 11:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20257630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostySoldier/pseuds/BrandyVorta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oboeist3/pseuds/Oboeist3
Summary: When the Mad Ducktor seemed to be behaving in prison, Gyro went to investigate.





	Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> a joint fic and art collab with the wonderful brandy! we've just been throwing topolino junk back and forth until something like a plot emerged lmao. hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading! <3
> 
> edit: it appears the embedded files don't work on all devices and i can't figure out how to fix it, so here's the links to the fabulous art if that ends up being the case for you
> 
> 1 - https://flic.kr/p/2gXEPbv  
2 - https://flic.kr/p/2gXE3PZ  
3 - https://flic.kr/p/2gXEPaP  
all in one - https://flic.kr/p/2gXE3Po

The Supercell had changed quite a bit over the decades since its original inception. The outer walls were fortified with stronger materials, and the interior was made less cartoonishly imposing, which was only fitting considering it was supposed to be the Mad Ducktor's home for multiple life cycles. There was a bed, a chair, a partially obscured bathroom. The section was still filmed, cameras embedded deeply in the walls so he couldn't pry them open for parts, as had been his escape two versions ago, but his presence was reviewed by a highly sophisticated Mad Ducktor detecting algorithm. The rest of the footage was examined by guards, twenty-four of them, each taking an hour a day. They were to alert Gyro of any irregularities immediately. Nowadays though, they didn't have much to report.

The Mad Ducktor was behaving. He was reading books, watching television on the projected screen, eating and sleeping regularly. For more than a handful of hours! Strangest of all, he wasn't insulting the guards through the cameras, picking apart their lives until they quit or demanded a leave of mental health. He was being a model prisoner, and no one knew why.

Gyro considered several options. Maybe the resident of the Supercell was a clone, or had mentally transferred out, or was trying to lull them into a false sense of security so that someone could come in person and he could escape. He sent a doctor to examine him, and Mad Ducktor complied with her tests, didn't steal any of her equipment, and didn't impersonate her. When her tests came back, they proved the chicken locked in the Supercell was the original. Well, the original clone.

In the end, there was only one thing to do. Mad Ducktor was many things, an overdramatic, narcissistic, unhinged lunatic, but he never lied to Gyro. He always told him the truth, or what he believed was the truth. If Gyro asked him what he was doing, he'd answer. He supposed he could have done it over the phone, project himself onto the wall and demand to know what was going on. But more than the structure of the prison had changed over the years. They'd built a decorum between them, an unspoken agreement of respect, even in their adversarial interactions.

It didn't feel right, not doing it in person.

So, Gyro took two flights, a boat, and a robot-powered dogsled to the Supercell. He input the five random alphanumeric passwords reset daily, and had the facility scan both his nucleic and mitochondrial DNA, his eye color, and his lack of lip makeup, which Mad Ducktor could never resist, even in disguise. He sighed in relief as he was allowed access, the warm air rushing over his feathers. Little Helper jumped down from his shoulder and undid his - mostly decorative - scarf.

"Be good while I'm gone." he instructed the little robot, handing him his cell phone, calculator, and spare glasses. Anything remotely mechanical wasn't allowed near his alter ego, as well as all basic office supplies. Little Helper gave a solemn salute, filament narrowed as if he was squinting at the door to the Mad Ducktor's cell, ready to keep a careful guard over his newly acquired cache. Gyro hid his smile in the ruff of his jacket, and after a deep breath, opened the door.

He wasn't sure if he had much in the way of expectations, but Mad Ducktor sitting crossed-legged and calm on his cot wasn't one of them. He didn't even open his eyes until Gyro cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, look what the Antarctic wind has blown in. Gyro, darling." he said, his beak twisting up into a playful smirk. "Come to bask in your victory? I must say, that's not very heroic of you. What will your husband think?"

"He's not with me, if that's what you're asking." he said, automatically tracing the ring with a finger, feeling the etched detailing. He'd told Donald of his whereabouts, after all if Mad Ducktor did succeed in hoodwinking him and escaping those few hours notice could be crucial. But they'd agreed that his presence would be unlikely to produce anything fruitful.

"My my, how naughty of you. Is that why you came? Because I'm not in the mood." he said, though the way his eyes traveled over Gyro didn't really lend much weight to the words. He flushed in spite of himself, Mad Ducktor was just trying to get a rise out of him, distract him from his actual purpose.

"I'm just here to visit." he stated, and tossed the bag he'd been clutching into his lap. "I brought you some muffins, your favorite."

As soon as the little baked good was in the chicken's hand, his expression changed. The playful amusement evaporated, the flirty, searching stare went sharp and calculating. Instead of descending upon the food with all the haste of a harpy, as was usual, he carefully placed it on the pillow, unwrapped and untasted.

"What is this, some sort of pity?" he sneered, his voice as cold and biting as the howling winds outside.

“It’s a gift, you know, like normal people bring each other when it’s been a while.” he said, reverting into sarcasm because he wasn't sure he'd ever heard him so furious, not when attacking Scrooge or Paperinik, not when his schemes were foiled, not when he objected at the wedding.

“When have we ever been normal?” he snorted, which wasn't exactly wrong.

"You've been playing the part lately. Haven't had to hire anyone new in months."

"Isn't that what you've always wanted? Me in prison, far away, and you off with your happy, domestic little life. If this isn't it, I don't know how to please you Gyro, I really don't."

"I want people safe and you happy in that order. If you're done with escaping and evil you don't have to live here anymore. You could go to a lower security prison, or house arrest in a few years." he said, encouraging and supportive. But the Mad Ducktor merely sneered, standing up and marching towards him, each word punctuated by his descent.

"Oh Gyro, bello Gyro. Don't you understand? I don't have my own happiness, I'm part of you. The part of you that believes you deserve better and your enemies deserve worse. I'm not a person, I'm an idea with a body. And I'm smart enough to know when I'm not needed anymore. You made your choice, and I've accepted it. So stop pretending you care!" The bravado of his words crumbled on the last sentence, as he stopped a few feet from Gyro.

The scientist closed the distance with his clone, wrapping his arms tightly around him. The sort of bone-crushing hug of a too long reunion, appropriate in feeling if not quite in the reality. Mad Ducktor was stiff for a moment, but soon returned the action, tucking his beak against Gyro's neck and preening the feathers there. He'd done it a few times when he thought Gyro was too sleep deprived to remember it. Certainly he never acknowledged it in waking hours. Several minutes passed before he dared to speak.

"You...you've really felt that way? All these years?"

"It's not a feeling, it's a fact." he mumbled, fingers gripping at Gyro's shoulders. "I'm hollow. A fragment of someone more complete. Why do you think I always came back? You might not need me, but I've always needed you. I'm useless on my own."

"That's not true! Even if you started out as a fragment of my ego, you've changed. You like muffins, you wear makeup, you listen to classical music. That's all you." he pointed out, earning a non-comital grumble. "I don't want to need you, because I don't want to need anyone, but when you're not trying to hurt my friends and family, I like having you around."

"What would I ever do without a reason to tie you up in a basement?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"You could visit. Bring a bottle of wine, help me with my latest gadget, try not to kill my husband for a few hours."

"You'd really want me there. In your lab, in your life?" he said, pulling back, incredulous.

"Of course. Geniuses have to stick together." he said, and caught sight of the glint off one of the cameras. "Oh dear, I'm going to have to erase all of this." Not to mention possibly bribe the guard to not report him aiding and abetting a dangerous criminal.

"No need. There's an EMP generator in my tongue bar. I activated it as soon as you came in." The Mad Ducktor said, sticking out his tongue the reveal the blinking gadget.

"When did you -? You know what. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." he said, tossing his hands up. "I'll see you sometime soon, if you can get out of this latest version." he teased, and the purple-haired chicken grinned wide.

"Gyro darling, I'm going to beat you there."

**Author's Note:**

> Oboeist links  
oboeist3.tumblr.com
> 
> Brandy links  
drakotts.tumblr.com (main)  
drakotts-does-art.tumblr.com (art blog)  
https://twitter.com/brandydoesarts (twits)


End file.
